


Cold As Ice

by shadows_of_1832 (SaoirseVictoire)



Series: Ice and Fire [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, prompt 4: memory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:08:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21911956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaoirseVictoire/pseuds/shadows_of_1832
Summary: “The way you phrase it makes it all sound so simple,” she replies, turning in his direction.He shakes his head. “To say it is simple is giving the effort put in no credit.”
Relationships: Enjolras/Éponine Thénardier
Series: Ice and Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1578265
Kudos: 4
Collections: Enjonine Exchange 2019





	Cold As Ice

The snow falls around her, forming blankets on the ground and on the limbs of trees throughout the woods. The gentleness of each snowflake landing, Eponine finds peace in it.

An owl’s sudden flight spooks her, and a wave of her hand and a few snowflakes scatter, turning a small portion of the ground to ice.

She should have expected that, and the fear of herself results in her jumping back, leaving more ice in her wake as the snow begins to fall faster.

_No! No, no, no!_

She wants to reverse the effect, but in her panic, it only gets worse.

 _“Take a deep breath. Take your abilities into consideration before trying to reverse what you’ve done,”_ a familiar voice calls from the back of her mind, from a face who is nothing more beyond a blur. She knows who it is, at least, she used to…He’s nothing more than a faint memory now.

But he was the only one who understood, knew how to help her. He didn’t shut her away like everyone else around her.

A snowy clearing in a forest comes to mind when her own voice comes through.

_“I don’t have your patience, monsieur. The anxiousness that fills my veins is too much to control.”_

_His figure, donning a maroon coat, stands behind her, likely to avoid whatever she alters in front of her. “Do not let it go against you, then; make it work in your favor.”_

_She takes a deep breath, waving her arms in front of her as she intends to only create a small mound of snow. Only, instead the mound is formed in ice, jagged, forming small daggers all over its surface._

_“It takes time,” his voice says softly. “Time and practice.”_

_“The way you phrase it makes it all sound so simple,” she replies, turning in his direction._

_He shakes his head. “To say it is simple is giving the effort put in no credit.”_

_When she turns back around, the daggers of the ice mound have vanished, or rather, melted, into the snow. She stares at the mound, wishing it into soft snowflakes, but it remains solid ice. She feels the warmth of his hands upon her shoulders._

A slip on the ice flashes her back to reality, underneath a snowy black sky. She turns to look behind her, the faint horizon of Paris in the distance. She half-expects him to be there, but that is asking too much.


End file.
